Plain Jane and Mr. Wrong (Plain Jane Series Book 4)

by Tmonique Stephens

  The hand on her neck squeezed again, and like a trained pet, she got moving. His heavy hand and the pressure on her didn’t end when they hit the fresh air. It continued until her ass landed in the back seat of his Range Rover.

  Outside the car, Harden, Bruno, and one of his other men talked. They kept it short, too short for her to sneak away, not that she had any real chance to escape with Allie playing princess in the lion’s den.

  Seated far away—which wasn’t far enough at all—Jentry ignored Harden’s large body next to her. Better to focus on the passing Bronx scenery than him.

  She was minding her own business, pretending her life hadn’t devolved into a parody, when, suddenly, the wig he slapped on her head after yanking it off was yanked off again. His window powered down, allowing cold air to rush in as he pitched her wig into the wind.

  Startled by his actions, she forgot to follow its trajectory. Instead, she watched the window power up before shifting her attention to the asshole next to her.

  “Explain why you made me wear it if you were just going to toss it out the window.”

  Washed in the passing highway lights, his features faded in and out. She didn’t need to see him to know he was still pissed. His anger rolled off him in waves. But his eyes, they remained locked on her as her gaze remained locked on him.

  “You have no idea what you did, do you?”

  She didn’t think he needed an answer, so she kept her mouth shut and waited for the monologue to continue because every super villain had one.

  “In a few short hours, you went from a random stripper to someone Harden Gage left Manhattan and drove all the way to the South Bronx to drag off the pole and rescue.”

  Random stripper. That was harsh.

  “Now the world knows you’re important to me. Which makes me vulnerable and you a target. That’s why I put that disgusting rug back on your head. They’ve seen your body, maybe they didn’t see your face. Maybe they don’t know how you really look.”

  He made it seem like her beauty would stop them in their tracks. Not likely. She was plain, ordinary, invisible. The only value she had was in the neck down. Carl had told her that enough she believed it and let him use her.

  “The world, huh?” She joked instead of giving into the tears threatening to erupt because he lied. She wasn’t important to him. She wasn’t important to anyone. The one reason she’d gained Harden Gage’s notice was because Julius Morgan called in a favor for the woman he loved.

  “My world, which is big enough.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. Yet… “Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same if you were in my shoes, if you had a kid you had to provide for,” she muttered. It was a rhetorical question. She didn’t expect an answer, especially not five minutes after she posed the question.

  “I would do anything to protect those I love. Dance on a pole. Hit the stroll. Sell my soul. I’ve done any and everything to protect those I love. And would do so a thousand times more.”

  Wow. Tonight hadn’t been a complete disaster. She’d learned something important. She learned Harden Gage had a heart. A tiny one. Microscopic.

  “Do not ever do this again, Jentry.” The words were soft, the intent was not.

  The fight gone along with all her energy, she slumped into the seat and closed her eyes. “I won’t,” were her last words to him. She was done. Done fighting. Done striving. Done struggling. At least for tonight. Tomorrow it would start all over again, but for right now, stick a fork in her, she was done.

  Chapter Eleven

  Harden walked Jentry to the door of her apartment and followed her inside. He met the nanny and informed her it was a twenty-four-hour job. The discussion was for Jentry’s benefit. The job was always intended to be twenty-four hours. He expected an explosion. Jentry didn’t bat an eye.

  With not even a good night, Jentry exited the living room. Harden watched her leave until she disappeared into the nursery. That was his cue to leave before he did something stupid. Something irreversible.

  Midnight. The night was young, and he was fucking exhausted. He should make the rounds, go to his clubs, particularly Catalyst—the members only club. He needed to check on things, be seen, which would douse the coming rumors about the woman in his life. Finally, Harden Gage had a weakness, an exploitable weakness, a fragile weakness. This wasn’t good. This was a catastrophic disaster.

  One look at her on that fucking stage and he lost his shit. No other way to explain his primal reaction. Every possessive instinct he swore he’d never have over any female roared to the surface. How dare anyone other than him see her. Touch her. Lust after her.

  Mine. Raw and ravenous, that’s how he felt as the word reverberated in his mind. Denial followed swiftly on its heels. Until he touched her. Then, all bets were off. With her slung over his shoulder, his inner caveman had bubbled to the surface. If anyone got in his way, they would’ve died. He wouldn’t have paused stepping over the body. Jentry pulled him back from the edge. Her voice allowed reason to seep inside and calm him.

  Which worked until he saw the tattoo between her shoulder blades. PROPERTY OF CDJ. Along with a host of other scars. They weren’t pretty healed. He didn’t want to imagine how horrible they were fresh.

  The man was dead. May he enjoy the time he had left because he was a dead man walking.

  He stalked down the carpeted hallway to his penthouse. Pavel and Leonid had joined Bruno and Nick. The four were sprawled across the living room in front of the never used marble fireplace.

  “Can I get you anything, sir?” Gerard took Harden’s coat as soon as he crossed the threshold.

  “No. Shouldn’t you be gone by now?” Harden asked. He liked the household staff gone by 8:00 p.m.

  “I wanted to wait until Ms. Playne returned safely, sir. In case the nanny needed help with little Allie.”

  Gerard always went the extra mile. “Thanks. You’re dismissed for the night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He poured himself a drink and downed it. Poured another one, then turned to the group. Leonid and Pavel occupied the leather sofa. Nick claimed an ottoman, while Bruno filled the chaise. They’d left the leather wing back for him. Harden was a pacer. The back and forth motions propelled his thought process, particularly when planning mayhem. Tonight, he planted his ass and balanced the drink on his knee.

  “What’s new, boss?” Leonid got the ball rolling.

  He fucked up, that’s what’s new. He knew and they knew. Yet, they were here, solidly in his corner where they’d been from the beginning. “We need to keep our eyes peeled for any incursions into our territory from the Ukrainians.”

  “Our war with the Russians isn’t a secret,” Pavel said. “Sides will be chosen.”

  “It’s wise to court the Ukrainians. For an alliance.” Bruno offered.

  Harden grunted in assent. “What were they doing with the Black Dragons?”

  “The chapter here is small-time compared to the home chapter out of Pennsylvania. They’re not real players, but that seems about to change. Only one reason why the Ukrainians would break bread with them,” Nick murmured more to himself than the others. “They’re freelancing.”

  “Extra muscle? I don’t buy it. The twins have more than enough firepower.” Pavel dismissed the theory.

  “They’re expanding. Gobbling up territory. As we will making inroads into Karpovilov’s territory and people,” Leonid said. “His ironclad hold in Astoria isn’t as ironclad as it appears.”

  “That doesn’t mean they’re eager for new hierarchy. We won’t be welcomed,” Pavel said. “It’ll be bloody.”

  “If they’re the ones who burned down our warehouse, damn straight it’ll be bloody.”

  “Preliminary fire report is in.” Nick dropped that bomb. “Surprise. It was arson. Gasoline accelerant. Except for two bodies, the warehouse was empty.”

  “Our men?” Harden asked.

  “Presumably. The bodies were missing their heads and hands. They
’ll never be identified,” Nick said.

  “They have family?” Harden asked.

  “Only one had a brother. College kid.”

  It wasn’t the first time one of their own died in service of them. It was a dangerous job working for the syndicate. Excellent pay. Great benefits. High mortality rate. But they took care of their own because no one else did. All of them were abandoned, neglected, unwanted in one way or another.

  Harden had his friends: Julius, Emmet, Nasir, Davien, and Lawson. They’d bonded at a Swiss boarding school. Six sons of wealthy businessmen. Harden counted those five no less his brothers than Pavel, Leonid, Bruno, and Nick.

  “Standard procedure. Find out what he knows and make sure he has everything he needs.”

  Pavel cleared his throat in lieu of raising his hand in preparation of asking an awkward question. “Do we need any pertinent information about your guest?”

  The question wasn’t intrusive, yet Harden bristled remembering Pavel holding the child with Jentry right by his side. Looking like a family.

  “How much you want to bet the Ukrainians are digging into her past as we sit here,” Nick said. “Any little scrap they can find about her, they’ll use against you. To hurt you.”

  “So, anything you want to share?” Leonid chimed in, one brow raised mocking him.

  Hunting for answers, they tag teamed him. He couldn’t blame them when the questions were valid, questions he’d ask if the shoe were on the other foot. However, he couldn’t answer questions he had no answers to, but he wouldn’t lie to himself. He wanted her. His broken pieces recognized her broken pieces. Yet couldn’t have her. He wouldn’t do that to her or him.

  He didn’t need a therapist to explain two broken people didn’t make a whole person. And he was aware of his disruptive tendencies to realize he wasn’t what she needed, not in the long term.

  Fuck. Long term in reference to a female had never ever entered his mind. To prove a point, he ruthlessly buried the thought and stood. “I’m heading back out.” He threw the words over his shoulder as he made his way to his bedroom to change.

  “You are?” Bruno’s surprised voice followed him down the hall. “It’s close to closing.”

  Yeah. He knew how to tell time. What he needed to know and what he had to do couldn’t wait till sunrise. He needed to clean house. And that needed to happen right damn now.

  ∞∞∞

  “Mr. Gage. Good evening, again.” Marilyn always had a smile for him.

  “Evening,” he said because there wasn’t a damn thing good about it. “Cheeseburger. Fries. Grilled onions to my office.” He kept moving through Catalyst to his office. Bruno joined him at the elevator.

  Once inside, both leaned against opposite walls. Bruno yawned and scowled at Harden. “This could’ve waited until the morning.”

  “Yeah.” Though his sleep would’ve been shitty. He didn’t rest well when shit had to get done. He was a “Do it now and get it over with” kind of guy. “You’re getting old.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Bruno snapped.

  At thirty-four, Harden was practically ancient compared to twenty-year-old Jentry. Technically old enough to be her very young father. Fuck, now he felt like a pedophile. Too many emotions were involved when he thought of her, which distracted him from what he needed to get done.

  Distractions got people killed. Would get him killed. Removing her from his inner circle was best. She would go to the beach house with extra guards just for her and the child.

  The elevator opened as the decision was made. Losing her job here was a blessing. Glass half full, not half empty. He could go home and sleep contently in his king-size bed with his Egyptian cotton sheets. But since he was here, he continued to his office. Bruno threw himself onto the leather sofa and stretched out, feet hanging over one edge, his head propped on a throw pillow. Harden dropped into the chair behind his desk. He booted his desktop up. A pile of invoices distracted him, then the arrival of his cheeseburger. Bruno begged for some fries, distracting him again until, finally, he turned his attention to the real reason he returned to Catalyst.

  Unbeknownst to the staff, there were cameras everywhere. Some visible, most not. None in sensitive areas—bathrooms and lockers. None in the massage rooms, or his black room either. But everywhere else, oh yeah.

  A few taps into the security app, a few more to pick the correct cameras, and Harden sat back and watched the events unfold.

  “Bruno.” Harden’s sharp voice caused the man to lurch into an upright position. “Bring Luce to the black room.”

  Bruno blinked once as the weight of the words settled. Then he climbed to his feet and headed for the door. Harden took the time to prepare. First, he killed the cameras leading to the kitchen. Next, he removed his jacket. No need to ruin the designer threads with blood.

  Besides, he didn’t plan on killing the man.

  He adjusted the gun at the small of his back and typed in the password on his keyboard that opened the hidden door to the black room. The room wasn’t black, and it wasn’t made with conventional materials. Metal from top to bottom made for easy cleanup. And a layer of plastic wrap just to make things a bit easier.

  The chair in the center of the room was also metal with a few appendages to immobilize a body, cuffs and straps, and ways to stretch the limbs into desired positions. The chair was custom made by a friend in the Ozarks. The man specialized in BDSM and fetish items. Several of his custom items were bought for the massage rooms. A few of the ladies were dominatrixes. Catalyst strived to cater to the myriad of tastes their clientele possessed. Anything and everything, Catalyst met all your desires, for a price.

  Harden didn’t turn at the sound of footsteps behind him. He did turn when one set faltered, then were replaced by whimpering and a scuffle. Pudgy, five inches shorter, at least eighty pounds lighter, Ralph Luce actually thought he could get away from Bruno. Harden laughed at the rabbit struggling against the bear.

  “Calm yourself, Luce. I’ve no intention of killing you. But I am going to teach you a lesson.”

  Bruno flung Luce into the chair. Luce scrambled to get away. Bruno clipped Luce’s glass jaw. The man slumped in the chair. He was out.

  “Really?”

  “Sorry.” Bruno shrugged. “I barely touched him.” He strapped the man in, arms, legs, and head. Then he retrieved a bottle of water and baptized Luce. Sputtering, he lurched awake and immediately scrambled to get away. Locked into the chair, Luce was going nowhere fast.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I’m sorry! Please, Mr. Gage. Please, forgive me.” He sobbed.

  Harden sunk to his haunches and met Luce’s narrowed gaze. “Tell me what you’re apologizing for.”

  “H-huh?” Luce stuttered.

  “You’re sorry. For what? I need details.” Harden waved his hand for the man to hurry up. He didn’t have all night for this interrogation.

  Luce’s eyes practically bounced around the room, looking for a way to escape. There was no escape unless Harden allowed it. “Um.” Tears pooled in his eyes.

  Harden smiled. “Let me help you rem—”

  “I touched her,” he blurted, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I didn’t believe her, and I touched her.”

  That wasn’t what Harden expected him to say. He expected Luce to apologize for not believing her when she claimed to be with him and firing her. For basically calling her a liar. Not for what he’d just blubbered.

  Luce touched Jentry? How? Where? When? And how did he miss it?

  Confused, he rose. He didn’t see the touch on the security tapes, and now he had to see it. Storming out of the room, he returned to his desk and pulled up that video again. Over his shoulder, Bruno watched with him.

  Jentry entered the building. She spoke to Marilyn, then walked directly to Luce’s office in the rear of the kitchen. That’s where the overhead camera angle went south. Luce said he touched her, but Harden couldn’t see it.

  “There’s another ca
mera in that office,” Bruno said.

  “What? Where?”

  “Move.” Bruno demanded. Harden didn’t take offense. He got up and allowed Bruno to replace him. He watched as Bruno accessed a server he didn’t know they had and pulled up a small hidden camera feed in a picture frame on the wall. Again, the angle wasn’t optimal, but…but, in the bottom corner of the video there was Luce shoving Jentry into the wall next to the open door. One second, his hand was in the center of her chest, the next second, he grabbed her breast and squeezed. She knocked his hand away and fled from the room, then the building.

  Harden extrapolated the rest until he found her at Split-Tail, half-naked, swinging on a pole. Rage was swift and sweet, providing clarity he didn’t need, yet welcomed. He exploded back into the black room and freed the gun he tucked in the small of his back. Three times he flexed his index finger. Three bullets. The sound echoed in the soundproof room. Too late, he remembered his silencer, though the ringing in his ears was tolerable because the holes in Luce’s head were so pleasing. Temper reined, the gun went back in the holster in the small of his back.

  “Did you call the cleaner?” Bruno stood to his left.

  Harden sighed. “I planned on teaching him a lesson.”

  “Lesson taught.” Bruno snorted.

  “Not this lesson,” Harden snapped. “I planned on breaking a few bones, fingers, wrist, maybe a black eye.”

  “What changed that decision?” Full of sarcasm, Bruno glared at him as he pulled out his phone and made a call. “Clean up at Catalyst. ASAP.”

  After closing, the office would be cleaned out and Ralph would disappear in an ash cloud at a crematory on Long Island.

  The body wrapped in the plastic that draped the floor, awaited pick up from the dumpster in the sub-basement via the hidden laundry chute at the back of the room. Pay enough money and a person can have anything built in secret.